


and i'm just a dead man walkin tonight

by underwaternow



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Friends With Benefits, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-18 14:16:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16120199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/underwaternow/pseuds/underwaternow
Summary: Tyson is never drinking again. Never. More to the point, he’s never letting Nate drink again, because Nate is a child who can’t hold his liquor and does things like “nominate his so-called best friend to be on Queer Eye just because Tyson started overanalyzing another text from Gabe, which isn’t acrime, Nate, he sent two smiley faces, that must mean something,” and is the reason Tyson is sitting at home on a Monday morning, waiting as a camera crew films the Fab Five driving around his neighborhood. It’s not his fault he never has any fucking idea what Gabe is thinking, if he’s flirting again or if he’s just being friendly. Gabe is always friendly. It’s hard to tell.





	and i'm just a dead man walkin tonight

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [lotts (LottieAnna)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LottieAnna/pseuds/lotts) in the [boysarehot](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/boysarehot) collection. 



> **Prompt:** Okay like a Netflix's Queer Eye crossover/fusion thing where Nate nominates Tyson and they spend the week helping him figure out how to ask Gabe out.
> 
> thank you to lotts for the prompt! this was so much fun to write, i had a blast with it and i hope you guys like it even if you haven’t watched the netflix queer eye reboot - although you should! thank you also to brenna and britta for reading over it and assuring me i didn't forget how to write over the summer. here's to another season, basically. title is from youngblood by 5 seconds of summer (which i had chosen before the avs’ social media posted this year’s warmup playlist with it on there, for the record, and yes it’s now my life’s mission to find out who chose that song).

FADE IN: INTERIOR SHOT OF TRUCK AND FAB FIVE. KARAMO IS DRIVING, JONATHAN SITTING SHOTGUN. BACKSEAT L-R BOBBY, ANTONI, TAN.

TAN: If you could pick anyone, who would we make over next?

BOBBY: Post Malone needs us. 

KARAMO: Peyton Manning. We’re in Denver, after all. 

JONATHAN [SHOUTING OVER BOBBY AND KARAMO]: Harry Styles!

BOBBY: All he wears is Gucci, he doesn’t need us. No offense, Tanny.

TAN: No, you’re right, there’s nothing I can do to help him. He’d end up helping me.

JONATHAN [DREAMILY]: I just want to get my hands on that hair. Like, that’s my only goal. Ever.

ANTONI [LAUGHING]: He heard, that’s why he cut it. 

JONATHAN [DRAMATIC GASP]: That is so rude.

KARAMO [LAUGHING]: Okay, okay. Jonathan, tell us about our guy.

JONATHAN: This week, we have - oooh, okay, we have an _athlete_. Tyson plays in the NHL and was nominated by his best friend, Nate!

BOBBY, ANTONI, and TAN: [applause]

JONATHAN: Nate says that Tyson is doing well but that his sort of undefined relationship with Gabe - ooooooooh, _Gabe_ \- has distracted him from truly living! 

ANTONI [WISELY]: We’ve all been there.

CUT TO: TALKING HEAD

NATE: Um, he’s my best friend - Tyson is - you know, I think he’s mostly just a little stuck. He’s got kind of in the middle of… I guess you could call it a will they, won’t they situation with this guy, another friend of ours, it’s been going on for almost a year now and I just want to see it resolved for him, you know? I definitely think he’s got his own life on hold a little bit, I think he deserves better than that.

OFFSCREEN: [unintelligible question]

NATE: No, absolutely, I want to see him have the confidence to go for what he wants. I think maybe that’s what he needs, and, uh, what I hope the Fab Five can help him with.

CUT TO: INTERIOR OF TRUCK, FAB FIVE

JONATHAN: Awwwww, so sweet. So. We are tasked with helping Tyson sort through what’s holding him back and gain enough confidence to ask Gabe out!

ALL: [cheering, applause]

CUT TO: EXTERIOR SHOT OF TRUCK, EXTERIOR SHOT OF DENVER SKYLINE. CREDITS

 

-

 

Tyson is never drinking again. Never. More to the point, he’s never letting Nate drink again, because Nate is a child who can’t hold his liquor and does things like “nominate his so-called best friend to be on Queer Eye just because Tyson started overanalyzing another text from Gabe, which isn’t a _crime_ , Nate, he sent two smiley faces, that must mean something,” and is the reason Tyson is sitting at home on a Monday morning, waiting as a camera crew films the Fab Five driving around his neighborhood. It’s not his fault he never has any fucking idea what Gabe is thinking, if he’s flirting again or if he’s just being friendly. Gabe is always friendly. It’s hard to tell.

“I’m just saying,” Nate had slurred as he filled out the application, holding his phone an inch away from his dumb drunk face. “You need them. They, like, help people be self-actualized and shit.”

“They’re not therapists, Nate,” Tyson had snapped. “They buy furniture and clothes for people and the twinky one makes guacamole.”

“Maybe you need some guacamole,” Nate had said. “I’m sick of listening to you bitch about Gabe, like, tell him you want to fuck him again and be his boyfriend or move on, Tyson, seriously, it’s been six months.”

Tyson had thrown an empty beer can at Nate’s head; it had missed. 

“Done,” Nate had said smugly. 

“They’ll never pick me,” Tyson had told him. 

Famous last words.

When they start knocking on the front door and ringing the doorbell at the same time, Tyson sighs, steels himself, and goes to answer it. He’s watched the show; he knows how this part goes, but he still isn’t quite prepared for the way they pour into the house, seeming like so many more people than just five - because they aren’t just five, there are multiple cameramen, this is all being filmed for television and he hates Nate - and immediately spread out.

“Is this couch from Ikea?” Bobby asks, sitting on it and bouncing a little.

“West Elm,” Tyson says, ducking a little as Jonathan hovers over him and starts touching his hair. “Listen, I know.”

“You have a good base,” Jonathan says. “Good curl, so cute, we can totally work on how you comb it.”

“What’s wrong with how I comb it?” Tyson asks. 

“Do you have two fridges?” Antoni wants to know.

“One’s a freezer. What’s wrong with how I comb my hair?”

“The shape,” Jonathan says enigmatically, and then disappears. Okay. Not at all concerning.

“All that’s in here is ice cream,” Antoni says, as if there’s something wrong with that.

“I really like ice cream,” Tyson says. Antoni hums thoughtfully.

“Tell me about Gabe,” Karamo says. The other three immediately stop rifling through Tyson’s belongings and turn to look at him.

“I - what about him?” Tyson asks.

“Tell me about your history with Gabe,” Karamo requests. “Whatever you feel comfortable sharing. That’s why we’re here, so I want to get a sense of what he means to you.”

Ten seconds ago, Tyson could not have been more aware of the cameras in the room, but there’s something about Karamo that puts him at ease, and he finds himself saying, “I mean - we’ve been friends for years, I guess I’ve always liked him. About a year ago we… what can I say on TV? We hooked up?”

“You shared a romantic evening,” Bobby supplies, now opening and closing every drawer in Tyson’s media cabinet, a throw pillow tucked under one arm. 

Tyson pauses. “Sure. That. Anyway. It was great but we didn’t talk about it then and we haven’t talked about it since and I guess I’ve been kind of overthinking everything. What it means, what it doesn’t mean, what he feels or doesn’t.”

“You still have feelings for him,” Karamo clarifies thoughtfully.

“Yeah.” 

“Do you think you’ve always wanted more than just one night?” Karamo asks.

“With Gabe? Yeah. Maybe not, I don’t know, the entire time we’ve known each other, but… for a long time. Since I’ve been aware of how I felt, I guess. I - is this all going in the episode?” 

“No,” Karamo says.

“Probably,” Jonathan says, appearing out of nowhere with the bar of Dial from Tyson’s shower. “Tyson. I am throwing this away, like, _immediately_.”

“What’s wrong with Dial?” Tyson demands. “It’s soap! It’s clean.”

“It’s not the Dial, it’s the lack of any other cleansing products in your bathroom,” Jonathan says, shuddering dramatically as he drops the soap into the garbage disposal and turns it on, blades making an angry hacking noise. It’s like he knew that Tyson would have seriously considered fishing it out of the trash can later. “Please tell me you don’t wash your face and body with Dial soap! I will die on the spot!”

“Um,” Tyson says. Jonathan collapses into Tan’s arms, who seems to have been expecting it and catches him easily. 

“We will fix that, honey,” Jonathan says, as Tan shoves him back upright and he stumbles a little. “You will be _glowing_ when I’m done with you, I promise.”

“Why is there still a price tag on this can opener?” Antoni asks, brandishing said can opener like it’s a weapon. “It was buried in this drawer, have you really not used a can opener the entire time you’ve lived here? This is a staple kitchen item!”

Tyson really, really hates Nate.

 

-

 

**BOBBY**

“You’ve obviously had a decorator do this place,” Bobby starts, “and it looks really… clean.”

“Oh, thanks,” Tyson says before he notices the slight wrinkle to Bobby’s nose. Not a good thing, then. What is it with these dudes and not liking his clean lifestyle? First the soap, now this.

“Here’s the thing,” Bobby says. “What about this space screams _Tyson_? Because maybe something does, maybe I don’t know you well enough to find it, but I’m not seeing anything.”

“Wh - everything here screams Tyson!” Tyson says defensively. He waves his hand toward the wall. “Look at all these photos!”

Bobby glances over. “Okay, I see one picture of you and four black and white stock photos. Did you… take these?”

“No,” Tyson says. “I purchased them. At an art fair.”

“Right. I just want to bring a little more _you_ into this space,” Bobby says diplomatically. “I know that as a hockey player, life can probably feel temporary, but you’ve been in Denver for awhile, right? And life doesn’t have to _look_ temporary. We can do better than this sort of, ‘went down an aisle at Target and bought one of each’ look.”

Tyson scoffs. He did not go to Target and buy one of everything. His decorator went to West Elm and bought one of everything. 

“I’m also getting rid of this rug,” Bobby says, nudging the corner of the admittedly hideous mustard yellow shag rug in Tyson’s living room that he took from his family home when his parents rejected it. Tyson can’t really blame him for wanting to get rid of it, but he takes a moment to mourn it. He and Gabe made out on that rug the night that Gabe was here. He cherishes that memory and, by extension, the rug.

Bobby must see something in his face, though, because he adds, “I won’t literally throw it out. I just want to take it out of this main living space.”

“Okay,” Tyson agrees. He can always put it back once they leave. 

 

**TAN**

“So I have some questions,” Tan starts, clasping his hands together elegantly. “First of all, you have quite a few suits here that I can tell are really well tailored.”

“Yeah, they’re for game days, events, that kind of stuff,” Tyson says. 

“Right,” Tan says. “So - that’s great, for work clothes you’re really well set up, I have zero issues with any of this. Did you pick the colors and patterns?”

“Uh - yeah. Most of them.”

“You have a great eye,” Tan says. “Really, really nice.” Tyson tries not to preen. “But,” Tan continues, “all I see in your closet besides the suits are kind of sloppy workout clothes and things that look really large for you.”

“I guess I can dress pretty casually if I don’t need to wear a suit, so I take advantage,” Tyson hedges. “And, you know, Adidas gives us a bunch of this stuff, the locker room wear.”

“Right,” Tan says again. “Well, we’re not in a locker room now. I’d love to see you dress casually in things that aren’t gym clothes and are a bit more fitted, so they look better and more flattering on you.”

Tyson tries not to make a face. “What, like khakis?”

“It doesn’t have to be chinos, no,” Tan says calmly, flipping through the pile of t-shirts stacked on Tyson’s dresser. “If you aren’t comfortable in chinos, we’ll skip them and go with a nicer jean. Dark denim can be dressed up really nicely; you’ll look sharp without looking overdone.”

“Okay,” Tyson says. He guesses he can do jeans. He doesn’t see anything wrong with his joggers, but Tan might have a point about the socks and slides.

“And you do have some really nice pieces already,” Tan adds. He runs his hand over the sleeve of Tyson’s green bomber jacket that he finally just got back from Josty the weekend before. “I love this, I think you just need - _more_ to pull it together.”

“All right,” Tyson agrees. “But no ties. I wear enough ties with the suits.”

“That’s fine,” Tan says. “This is all about taking your preferences and just elevating it. I don’t want to make you dress in clothes that are completely not your style. If you don’t like them, you won’t wear them, and that’s not what we want.”

Tyson nods.

“Great,” Tan says brightly. “Then tomorrow we’ll hit the mall.”

-

Tan picks him up in the truck at 11 the next morning, and when they get to the mall Tyson is so busy inhaling the beautiful, yeasty scent of cinnamon soft pretzels that he doesn’t even realize that Tan has steered him directly to J Crew.

“Oh jeez, really?” Tyson asks as they go inside and Tan makes a beeline for the jeans. The _denim_ , he corrects himself. “This just feels so fancy.”

“It’s all about how you style it,” Tan explains. “You find ways to style it down; one of the graphic tees you already own with a nice jacket and a pair of good sneakers is a great weekday outfit.”

“I guess that sounds okay,” Tyson says, and that’s how he ends up in a dressing room at J Crew with a pile of clothes that’s almost as tall as he is while Tan and a cameraman wait outside. He reflects, as he pulls on a pair of the black jeans that Tan carefully selected, that he’s been filmed in a lot of bizarre situations doing a lot of bizarre things, but somehow this probably tops it all. Eventually he and Tan agree on a pile of clothes, and Tan scoops them up and carries them away before Tyson can argue that just because the show is _budgeted_ to buy the clothes doesn’t mean they _have_ to. 

“I want a soft pretzel,” he admits as they leave the store, the cameras finally off. 

Tan laughs. “You know what? That sounds really good.”

“It’s on me, then,” Tyson says grandly, and leads the way to Wetzel’s Pretzels. 

 

**JONATHAN**

“Can I say, first of all, that I am loving the brows,” Jonathan announces without preamble. His fingers trace over his own eyebrows as he says it, and he leans a little closer. “Threaded or waxed?”

“Um,” Tyson says, shooting a sideways look at the camera.

“You can tell me, this is a safe space,” Jonathan says. “They are really looking fantastic.”

“Threaded,” Tyson admits. He’s not embarrassed, exactly, but he doesn’t relish the idea of everyone who watches the episode knowing it.

“ _Loving_ it,” Jonathan says. “I’ll make them edit that out, don’t worry.” He looks directly at the camera and shakes his head, mouthing _no I won’t_. “Okay, so, I have a few things for you today. The first one is hair pomade.”

Tyson takes the little jar that Jonathan offers him with a flourish, turns it over in his hands.

“This is going to just… give the curls a shape,” Jonathan says, motioning dramatically around Tyson’s head. “We love a curl, but we love a controlled curl even more.”

“I don’t see it happening, but I’ll try it,” Tyson says dubiously. “My hair kind of is what it is.”

“Never say never. I promise you, this is a miracle worker,” Jonathan tells him. “It keeps your hair all soft, too, none of that crunchy product feel that can just kill the mood if someone is trying to tenderly run their fingers through it.”

Tyson elects not to mention that he overgelled his hair a week ago and when Gabe tried to mess it up on purpose, his watch got stuck in it. EJ had cut him loose, laughing hysterically; Tyson is pretty sure there’s still a very visible short patch.

“So, every morning, you take just a dollop of this - on your fingertips, just spread it out and then apply it to your ends,” Jonathan explains, demonstrating. “You can put it on wet or dry hair, which is really nice, kind of a little touch up between shampoos. Please don’t shampoo your hair every day. Never tell me if you do. _Voila, ma belle, magnifique!_ Love it. You look so good.”

Tyson takes a look in the mirror. It does maybe look a little better than usual. An upgrade from drowned rat to wet cat, possibly.

“Always do your hair like this,” Jonathan tells him, still fussing over his hair. “You are not allowed to use hair gel anymore. I don’t understand why athletes never know how to do their hair.”

“Gel is easy,” Tyson says, turning his head one way and then the other in front of the mirror.

Jonathan shudders delicately. “Absolutely not. Comb through once before you put in the pomade, finger-comb it after if necessary, that’s it. No gel, no combing after product. We don’t want you to look like your mom did your hair for Sunday school. Don’t give me that look,” he adds, when Tyson slants a sideway glance at him in the mirror. “I’m the expert, you have to listen to me.”

“Okay, okay,” Tyson says. He figures it can’t get any worse.

“Do you _promise_?” Jonathan asks. “Promise me, Tyson.”

“I promise,” Tyson says.

Jonathan beams. “Good. Aw, look at you, you look so cute! Love it.”

Tyson blushes, leans in closer to the mirror and messes with his hair again for something to do with his hands. 

“And then…” Jonathan presents him with another little bottle. “Okay, this is a toner slash moisturizer, she will control all that redness. Just even things out for you. Apply her every morning after you wash your face, she’s really gentle. Not too gentle, we’re not into that. JK, she’s supes gentle.”

Tyson snorts as he takes the cotton ball Jonathan offers and swipes on some of the toner slash moisturizer. “Oh,” he says. “It’s nice. Cooling.”

“Eucalyptus and cucumber,” Jonathan says. “To _die_ for, honey.”

 

**ANTONI**

“So how often do you cook?” is Antoni’s first question when Tyson is deposited into his own kitchen with Antoni and a cameraman. 

“Um.” Tyson laughs a little. “Basically never? I’m great at ordering takeout.”

“Okay,” Antoni says, laughing along with him, nodding enthusiastically. “What kind of takeout do you like?”

“I go to Chipotle a lot,” Tyson admits. “I like to try new restaurants, things downtown, I do - I eat _nice_ food, even if I don’t cook.”

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with a burrito,” Antoni says, holding up his hands. “Okay. So what I want to do with you today is make a sort of rustic, homemade milkshake. What’s really fun about this is how customizable it is.”

Tyson blinks. “So… a Blizzard.”

“Kind of,” Antoni says, turning to the counter where there’s a blender that Tyson has never seen before in his life. Next to the blender is an array of candy and cookies: Oreos, peanut butter cups, hot fudge, a Snickers bar, even gummy worms. “You can pick whatever you want to put in the ice cream.”

“A Blizzard,” Tyson confirms; Antoni can call it a _rustic homemade shake_ all he wants, but Tyson knows a Blizzard when he’s confronted with one. He’s a goddamn Blizzard connoisseur. “You can’t put gummy worms in ice cream, they’ll freeze.”

“Yeah, but I like them,” Antoni says, reaching over to sneak a gummy worm out of what Tyson realizes now is an already open package. He pops it in his mouth and then claps, chewing. “What’ll it be?”

Tyson puts Oreos and a dollop of peanut butter in his not-Blizzard, and they lean against the counter and pass the cup back and forth until it’s gone. 

“That was really good,” Antoni says, putting the cup in the sink. “What do you think, is that something you’d want to make for friends? Kind of a fun, interactive dessert.”

All Tyson can think about is how much Gabe would laugh if he announced they were making rustic homemade milkshakes. The thought makes him feel kind of warm inside, even though he just ate half a blender’s worth of ice cream. Gabe just always looks so _soft_ when he’s laughing at Tyson, his eyes warm even when there’s a stupid smirk on his face at Tyson’s expense. 

“Yeah,” he says, licking a smudge of peanut butter off his thumb, mind already racing ahead to flavor combinations Gabe would especially like. “Yeah, I could do that.”

 

**KARAMO**

Tyson pulls the door of the truck shut and silence settles over them as Karamo pulls out of his driveway. Tyson tries not to fidget. He sneaks a glance at Karamo as they pull onto the main road, but Karamo’s face gives nothing away; he just looks all calm and unbothered, and like, really confident and hydrated and shit. Whatever. Tyson drinks a ton of Gatorade.

“So what are we doing?” he finally asks, right at the same time Karamo says, “Tell me a little more about Gabe.”

“Oh,” Tyson says. “Uh. Gabe. Great guy, great guy. Plays hockey.”

“Right,” Karamo says slowly, like Tyson is the simplest person alive. “Tell me more about who Gabe is to you.”

Tyson coughs. He’s not entirely sure who Gabe is to him - a friend? A one-time fuck buddy? His really hot teammate and captain? - which makes telling someone else difficult. To say the least. 

“He’s… such a good person,” is what comes out. Karamo makes a noise of encouragement as he merges onto the interstate. “Like, Gabe’s the best person I know, no question. He cares about doing the right thing all the time.” Tyson pauses, looks out the window, scratches the side of his nose. “It’s kind of irritating, actually.”

“Is it?” Karamo asks.

“No,” Tyson says. “Maybe. I don’t know. It’s hard to tell sometimes what actually irritates me about Gabe and what makes me like him more.” He laughs a little, self consciously. “And he’s, like, a freaking model. That does irritate me, actually, I don’t know why he has to walk around in public looking like he does.”

“Beauty comes from within, right?” Karamo says, and it’s such a platitude - not to mention just flat out _wrong_ ; Gabe could be the worst person alive but Tyson is pretty sure he’d still be beautiful - but he sounds so sure of himself that Tyson finds himself nodding, totally caught up in it. It’s not like it helps Tyson’s horrible, all-encompassing feelings that Gabe loves his dog and tells the NHLPA that he loves being a hockey player because of the charity work and once was late to meet Tyson for lunch because he literally stopped to help an old lady cross the street.

After a few minutes of silence, Karamo says, “So what’s kept you from pursuing something more with Gabe?”

“I don’t know,” Tyson says. “I don’t know what he wants. What if he’s like, ‘wow, that night I hooked up with Tyson sure was awful’? Or what if it was good or whatever but he’s totally fine to leave it be? You know? I don’t want to make it weird.”

“Do you think,” Karamo says slowly, “that maybe you’ll never know unless you ask? And if he’s a good guy who cares about your friendship, then there’s a good chance he’ll be decent about it. Right?”

Tyson sighs. “I mean, he’s also my captain, so.”

“Okay,” Karamo says. “And?”

“It just - it’s complicated,” Tyson says. “That makes it complicated. I don’t - nobody would care. Mostly they know that we - ” He wiggles his hand around to convey something along the lines of _spent the night together and it was literally magical and the next morning we ate Pop Tarts in my kitchen and bumped our hips together and then Gabe left and we haven’t spoken about it since then and I have no idea what he’s thinking or feeling._ “ - whatever, they don’t care, but it’s still complicated.”

Karamo is quiet. 

“I’m fucking scared,” Tyson blurts, not taking his eyes off the road stretching out in front of them. “Like, right now it’s fine and we had - what we had, and it somehow wasn’t weird afterward, and we’re friends, and he laughs when I flirt with him or maybe sometimes flirts back, I think, but I gotta - I don’t know how to say it. ‘Hi, I like you so much, will you go on a date with me’? That’s fucking… I don’t know.” Oh god, stop talking, _stop_. He forcefully does not make eye contact with the dash camera that’s filming his every single embarrassing word. 

“Would it be worth it, though?” Karamo asks. “If you did say that and it worked out how you wanted it to, would it make being scared and doing that big, scary thing worth it?”

“Yeah,” Tyson says.

“Wow. No hesitation.”

Tyson lifts one shoulder. “It’s Gabe, you know? It’s… yeah. It’d be worth it.”

Karamo hums in agreement. When Tyson glances at him, he’s smiling faintly to himself.

Ten minutes later, they exit the interstate and after a few turns, Karamo pulls into an airfield and parks the car. As they get out of the truck, Tyson only has a few seconds to wonder what the fuck they’re doing here before Karamo says, “So I’m taking you skydiving.”

The “oh, fuck no” slips out before Tyson can stop it. At least the cameras aren’t set up yet.

Karamo laughs. “It’ll be fun, I promise.”

“If I don’t _die_ ,” Tyson exclaims. 

“You won’t die. I’ve been before. You’re with a guide, they walk you through exactly what will happen and what you’ll need to do before you go up, it’s safe.” Karamo looks perfectly calm. Tyson feels like he’s about to shit himself.

Once the cameras are rolling and they film Karamo telling Tyson what they’re doing at the airfield, a skydiving guide straps Tyson into a suit - no, he reassesses, _this_ is the stupidest, most bizarre thing he’s ever been filmed doing - and they pile into the back of a little two-seater plane and start taxiing. 

“So like, has anyone ever died doing this?” Tyson asks, trying to sound conversational. His heart is pounding.

The guide - Alyssa, he thinks her name is; they were introduced, but since he’d been trying not to start screaming at the time he doesn’t quite remember - considers it. “Ever? I mean, yes, there have been accidents, but - ”

“Has anyone ever died skydiving with you?” Tyson clarifies.

She laughs. “No. Fortunately. If someone was with me and they died, I’d probably die too. Listen, don’t worry, okay? Everyone is nervous, but I promise it’s a lot safer than it seems.”

“I told you, Tyson!” Karamo says from where he’s sitting on the other side of Probably Alyssa. “I wouldn’t lie to you, you’re gonna be fine.”

“Okay,” Tyson says. “Sure.”

The plane is bobbing a little in the air as they climb higher and Tyson tries not to watch as the ground shrinks away beneath them. This is a nightmare. He’d rather play one on one against Buff. He’d rather sit through his arbitration hearing again. He’d rather ask Gabe out and then talk about his feelings.

It hits him, then, as the pilot yells back to Probably Alyssa that they’re almost to 10,000 feet, that maybe that’s Karamo’s point. Damn. Tyson has to give it to the guy; he’s good. 

“All right, Tyson, you ready?” Probably Alyssa calls over the engine noise.

“No,” Tyson says, but his traitorous body is mimicking her movements, standing up carefully and shuffling closer so she can strap them together.

“Okay,” she says. “I’ve got the parachute cord right here, okay? And remember, you don’t have to do anything except keep your arms outstretched and just stay as relaxed as possible.”

“Sure,” Tyson repeats. His voice cracks. He doesn’t care. 

“Tyson!” Karamo yells as one of the other guys opens the plane door. “You got this, okay?”

Tyson just nods weakly. This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to him, and if he survives it, he’s absolutely kicking Nate’s ass.

“Okay!” Probably Alyssa yells in his ear. “Tyson, you’re going to have to be the one who jumps!”

“Fuck, seriously?” Tyson says. 

He’s pretty sure she’s laughing at him. “Yes! You’re in front, and I can’t push you. This has to be you!”

Jesus. 

The guide by the door gives him a thumbs up.

“Don’t look down, just go!” he hears Probably Alyssa shout, and he just fucking closes his eyes and goes for it.

It’s the fucking scariest thing he’s ever felt, the free falling; he can’t tell if that noise is the wind or his own screams. Probably both. They fall for what feels like _forever_. Tyson refuses to open his eyes. He can hear Probably Alyssa whooping.

“Get ready!” she calls, finally, and then Tyson feels the parachute jerk them upwards as it opens. Thank _God_. He opens his eyes, then, and - well. Okay. It’s kind of incredible, the Rockies spread out around them and the sky a bright, brilliant blue. He understands, maybe, why someone would voluntarily do this.

Still, when they touch down, as soon as he’s unstrapped from Probably Alyssa he collapses on the ground, burying his face in the grass and vowing to never leave it again. Sweet solid ground, he never thought he’d be this grateful for it.

“Tyson!” Karamo says as soon as he and his guide land just a minute later. “Look - you made it. What’d you think?”

“Terrifying,” Tyson says immediately, rolling over and squinting up at Karamo. “It was terrifying. But… it was kind of cool, too.”

Karamo gets this look on his face. “Worth it?”

“Maybe,” Tyson allows. “Was your plan to scare me so much that the idea of talking to Gabe about my feelings seems easy and preferable in comparison?”

Karamo throws his head back, laughing. “Not exactly. But you have to admit, it feels pretty good to step out of your comfort zone, doesn’t it?”

Tyson half-grins and accepts the hand up that Karamo holds out. “Yeah. It was pretty good.”

 

-

 

They’re scheduled to film some bullshit team gathering at Tyson’s on Friday night, an entirely staged event to give him a chance to reveal his true feelings to Gabe and ask him out on a date, and just before midnight on Thursday Tyson is lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, absolutely fucking wide awake. He doesn’t think he can do this. 

Tyson rolls onto his stomach, punches his pillow up again so it’s less flat, flips onto his other side and stares at the way the moonlight is flooding in through the window. It was like that the night Gabe was here, too; he had laid awake then, trying to wrap his head around what had happened, staring at the light on the floor while Gabe snored behind him. Tyson doesn’t think he wants to do this; not like this.

He sits up and grabs his phone, pulls up his iMessages with Gabe.

_are you awake?_

_No. This is my automated message answering service. Leave your message and Gabe will reply as soon as he can._

_fuck off  
can i come over_

_Now?  
It’s after midnight, Tyson._

_no shit gabe thank you  
i know it’s late, it’s just important_

_Fine with me, but god help you if you wake Zoey up._

_she would probably love to see me_  
_she’s probably wondering why the bad man hasn’t let her see her pal tyson in so long_  
_i’ll be there in 20_

Tyson’s heart is pounding as he gets in the car and backs out of his driveway, not least because he’s pretty sure the Queer Eye producers wouldn’t love it if they knew he was going to blow the surprise before filming. Whatever. He doesn’t care. For once in his stupid life, Tyson doesn’t want to blurt out a bunch of embarrassing word vomit while he’s being filmed; he’s going to do this the right way, like a normal person who has his shit together.

Gabe must have been watching for him, because he opens the front door before Tyson is even all the way up the front steps, Zoey behind him, looking curiously around his knees. He’s dressed in flannel pajama pants and a t-shirt and he looks soft, backlit by the lamp in the foyer. 

“This better be important,” he says as Tyson slips past him into the house.

“It is, I swear,” Tyson says. “It, uh. Okay. You know how we have the party tomorrow?”

Gabe’s face breaks into a grin. “Yeah. How is that, by the way, the Queer Eye filming? How are your acting skills?”

“They’re great, thanks, fuck you,” Tyson says. “Shut up, listen to me, I’m going to pull you aside tomorrow and tell you some stuff, but I wanted to tell you first, now, for real. Without the cameras. So tomorrow you have to pretend it’s all new information.”

Gabe blinks. “Uh… okay? What’s going on? Are you dying? Secretly a spy? No, that can’t be true, you’d be a terrible spy.”

“I like you,” Tyson blurts. “Will you go on a date with me?” Great. All the subtlety and finesse of a cement truck. Fantastic job, Barrie.

Gabe blinks some more, then grins, slowly. “A date?”

“Shut up,” Tyson snaps. “I mean. Yeah. A real one.”

“Oh, so now you drinking a bottle of rosé and texting me at 1 AM to ask if I’ll bring you Arby’s because you ‘need meat, winky face’ doesn’t count as a real date? Because that is what happened, I’ll remind you,” Gabe says, looking way too smug. Tyson is well aware of the circumstances that led to Gabe being at his house the night they slept together, thank you _very_ much. 

“No,” Tyson says, in as dignified a voice as possible. “I do have standards, Gabriel.”

Gabe laughs so hard he has to sit down on the couch. Zoey, who was asleep in her bed again, lifts her head up. Tyson swears she’s glaring at him. 

“I’m sorry,” Gabe says finally, gasping for breath. Tyson rolls his eyes. What a drama queen. “That was just so funny. Of course I’ll go on a real date with you.”

“Wh - really?”

Gabe gives him a funny look. “I’ve been flirting with you for the last year!”

“You have _not_ , oh my God.”

“Yes, Tyson! I have! Do you think I send everyone multiple smiley faces?”

“That’s not flirting!” Tyson yelps. “Why didn’t you just ask me out, or whatever?”

“You were so… I don’t know, calm? the morning after we hooked up, I thought you didn’t want anything more to happen,” Gabe explains. “It was really weird, actually, not like you at all. I didn’t quite know what to make of it.”

“Jesus,” Tyson says. “We are so stupid.”

“Speak for yourself, Tys,” Gabe says, leaning back into the couch, his soft gray t-shirt stretching across his chest. He grins at Tyson. Tyson wants to destroy him.

Instead, he sits down next to Gabe. “I do like you. I meant that.”

“I thought you did,” Gabe says. “I - yeah. I think you’re all right.”

“Wow,” Tyson says dryly, a smile threatening to stretch across his entire face. “Don’t put yourself out.”

“Come on,” Gabe says, laughing a little. “I like you two smileys worth, we’ve been over this.”

“Yeah, well, I like you so much that I complained and obsessed about it for so long Nate signed me up to be on Queer Eye, so you’ve got some catching up to do,” Tyson tells him, climbing into his lap and feeling a thrill go through him as Gabe reaches out instinctively, settles his hands on Tyson’s waist. 

“Hmm,” Gabe says, slipping one of his hands up underneath Tyson’s shirt, fingers stroking over his spine. “I guess I can work on it.”

“Great,” Tyson says. “You can start by coming up with the best acting of your entire life tomorrow at this party when I tell you this shit all over again, so that no one suspects I told you already and I don’t get yelled at by the Queer Eye producers.”

Gabe is still laughing when Tyson leans in to kiss him.

 

-

 

EXTERIOR: DAY. FAB FIVE LOFT

CUT TO: INTERIOR, FAB FIVE LOFT. FAB FIVE ARE IN KITCHEN, PREPARING SNACKS.

BOBBY: Are we ready to watch Tyson’s event?

JONATHAN: I am _so_ nervous for him!

KARAMO: You know, I’m excited. I really think he’s ready for this.

CUT TO: FAB FIVE, GROUPED ON COUCH, WATCHING FOOTAGE AS TYSON WELCOMES SOMEONE INTO HIS HOME. 

JONATHAN: Is it me, or does he look, like, so tired? Like honey, those under eye circles are so big they’re wearing you.

TAN: He does. Look, I love what he’s wearing, though, he picked out a new shirt, new jeans, and a jacket he already owned. I’m really happy with that. 

KARAMO: He looks really confident. Relaxed.

ANTONI: Oh, there’s Gabe! That’s Gabe! Wow. 

JONATHAN [SHRIEKING]: A hug! Tyson went for a hug - _and_ a cheek kiss, oh my God.

BOBBY: They look so comfortable with each other.

CUT TO: CLIP OF FOOTAGE

TYSON: I have, um, kind of a sundae bar? For milkshakes. We can make milkshakes and you can put whatever stuff in them you want.

GABE [LAUGHING]: Are you seriously offering to make me a homemade Blizzard? That’s what you learned this week?

TYSON [ALSO LAUGHING]: Hey, the experience was invaluable, okay?

GABE [SERIOUSLY]: I guess it was.

CUT TO: FAB FIVE LOFT

KARAMO: They’re so sweet together.

JONATHAN [CUTTING OFF KARAMO]: Oh my god, Gabe already knows! He so already knows.

ANTONI: What? How would he already know? How do you know that?

JONATHAN: Gay intuition. Gintuition, if you will.

ANTONI: I will not.

TAN: You know, they do look really cozy.

JONATHAN [SHOUTING]: Gabe already knows! Gabe already knows!

BOBBY: Wait, wait, here we go!

CUT TO: CLIP OF FOOTAGE, TYSON AND GABE IN TYSON’S OFFICE

GABE: Tyson, do you ever use this office? When was the last time you came in here? Be honest.

TYSON: I’m in here all the time! I make business calls all the time, Gabe, you don’t know.

GABE [LAUGHING, SITTING DOWN AT DESK AND PICKING UP IMAGINARY PHONE]: This is Tyson, I need to speak to Sakic immediately. Yes, it’s about money.

TYSON: F - shut up. Listen. I need to tell you something important. 

GABE [SERIOUSLY]: Yes, Tyson?

TYSON [REHEARSED]: It’s been a long time since we were together, I know. But the truth is, I’m still thinking about it and you, and what we could have. I’d really like it if you’d go on a date with me sometime.

GABE [VERY WIDE-EYED]: Oh my gosh, really? I thought you’d never ask.

CUT TO: FAB FIVE LOFT

KARAMO: He absolutely already knew.

TAN [SMUGLY]: Did you notice Gabe’s eye circles? They were both up all night.

JONATHAN [BOTH ARMS RAISED IN THE AIR, SHIMMYING, YELLING]: Woooooooo!

BOBBY [SLIGHTLY HORRIFIED]: I never saw that room. Why didn’t I ever see that room? I have to go back, I need to keep helping him.

JONATHAN [STILL YELLING AT TV]: Kiss, kiss, kiss! 

CUT TO: TV. ONSCREEN TYSON AND GABE KISS.

JONATHAN SCREAMS WORDLESSLY

KARAMO: I love another success story, I really do. 

BOBBY [STILL SLIGHTLY HORRIFIED]: All that was in there was a pile of hockey sticks in the corner!

FADE OUT.

**Author's Note:**

> things i know nothing about include scriptwriting, television production, and skydiving, so i apologize if there are any glaring mistakes re: one of those topics!


End file.
